


Advice from a Bartender

by grahamhannah53



Category: Firefly
Genre: Dying!Inara, F/M, Mal is awful, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamhannah53/pseuds/grahamhannah53
Summary: Inara is dying and Mal is an idiot





	

One glass was downed. Then another, and another, and yet another. The drink felt like acid dripping down the captain’s throat, but he couldn’t care less. Sweet intoxication, a blissful release from reality—it was worth every bit of the pain. The more he drank, the less he had to think, but in every golden glass, he saw the color of _ her  _ eyes and nothing, not even the drunken haze he was in, could dull the searing, white-hot pain in his chest at the thought of her.

She was everywhere—in his thoughts, in his dreams, at the next social event he was invited to attend, in the street, at church, any and everywhere he looked. He couldn’t escape her. He felt trapped in his own skin, caged by his own mind, and he needed something, anything, to wipe away this pain, this feeling of being slowly burned alive by the consequences of his foolish actions. This drink wasn’t strong enough.

“Sir, sir,” he called to the bartender. “Pour me something with a little more clout, will you?”

“Oi, you’re drinkin’ the strongest thing in the house, lad,” the man replied. “Get a grip. You look like a bleedin’ mess, you do. You’ve been at it since the beginning of my shift, and it’s nearly mornin’!”

“Of that I am well aware, my good man. I can imagine you see many a man as miserable as I on your shift. That’s what men such as m’self do—make ourselves miserable for our own stupidity,” his words were beginning to slur a bit, but he was painfully aware of what it was that he was saying. “Too much money and not enough sense, as my mother used to tell me.”

_Oh, and what if your mother could see you now,_ he asked himself mournfully. _She’d have a fit, she would._

“What’s your name, lad?” asked the bartender, looking sympathetic for the man.

“Malcom,” he managed. “Malcom Reynolds.”

“I hate to tell you, but I’ve never seen one as miserable as you darken my doors,” he said, patting Mal’s shoulder. “You really look like you have been dragged through the bad side ‘o town tied by your feet to a wild horse.”

“It’s about how I feel, sir, to be honest,” the younger man replied, rubbing his face.

“What was she like?” the bartender asked quietly.

“Oh, it would take me a thousand years to describe her to you,” he said, taking another swig of his drink. “And yet, it took me only a moment to fall in love with her.”

“Well, lad, what does she look like? She can’t be so indescribable.”

Mal closed his eyes, trying to block out the ache in his chest as he pictured her.“She has an iridescent glow about her, unlike anything I had ever seen before I met her—scoff now, you piece of _go-se_ , but if you saw her, you would know.”

“I hadn’t meant to offend, it’s just that I have heard it a thousand times before from young men such as yourself. Continue, continue.”

Mal just shook his head. “Her skin is gold like honey, and her eyes are the color of brandy. Her hair is long, with ringlet curls in it from root to end, and it is, as she likes to say when she’s being foolishly self-depreciative, the color of mud,” he smiled slightly then, as he felt tears well up in his eyes. “She’s beautiful, beautiful and broken. I broke her. The strongest woman in this dreary world… I broke her. My God, I am a _fool_.”

“Why did you do it?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow. “If you love her so much, then why?”

Mal leaned forward, whispering into the man’s ear.

“ _Oh_. Oh God. Get her back, boy. Show up wherever she is and tell her everything; apologize. Do it, or all is lost for you. There must be an evening event you can attend to meet her tonight. If not, go to her home if you must. You have from now till noon to sober up, then you must busy yourself cleaning up, for you look a right mess. Do as you must, but remember that she is here for only as long as God chooses to let her stay.”

“How? How could she take me back after--”

“Women have this amazing ability to forgive things you never thought they would. Go, boy, don’t waste any more time here!”

Obediently, he left, stumbling into the street to find his best friend, who currently wasn’t speaking to him, like the rest of the town, because he was such a bloody idiot. But, perhaps, Kaylee would spare a poor wretch his misery, for old times’ sake.

*****************

_Oh Inara. My sweet, sweet Inara, how did I lose you?_ Mal wondered, staring at his love from across the room.

Kaylee, resident ray of sunshine and his crew’s mechanic,, had indeed been hard to convince, but, being the girl she was, she couldn’t help but show him a spot of kindness. As it turned out, there was a party going on that evening, a party that Inara would be attending, and Kaylee was able to slide him in.

Now that he was there, though, Mal hadn’t a single idea what to do with himself. He just sort of stood there awkwardly, holding a drink.  If Kaylee would hardly have anything to do with him, he could imagine how well those that were less fond of him _beforehand_ were feeling. As it turned out, he didn’t need to imagine after all. A few _un_ welcoming remarks had made him great chums with the table where the drinks were. Looking on the bright side, this spot by the drinks provided him an excellent view of Inara. On the not-so-bright side, this also made him feel like running _away_ from Inara.

She was dressed in the finest gown he had ever seen on her before. It was made of a pale lilac color, and was trimmed in white lace. She wore in the way of jewelry only a pearl choker—the very same he had bought her for her birthday in the summer, pearl being her birthstone. Her hair was pulled back with a lilac ribbon, exposing the pale curve of her neck. She looked like a goddess, and, as though some outside force propelled him, Mal strode forward to her, dropping the drink in his hand without another thought.

Her head turned to him as he approached her.“Mal, what are you--”

“Not here,” he took her by the hand. “Please, Inara, just a moment.”

She complied, not so much following behind him as being pulled.

When they were outside, she yanked her hand back, folding her arms.“You reek of drink.”

Without warning, he kissed her softly on the mouth. At first she was tense, but then she relaxed and kissed him back.

“There,” he said softly. “I love you, Inara. I always have and I always will. I understand if you never want to speak to me again after this, but I just wanted to tell you… I was scared, so scared. Hell, I still am. You’re dying, Inara. I don’t want to watch you die, but I can’t live without you. You are every heaven I believe in, the answer to every prayer I have ever prayed. This isn’t easy for me, but I have decided that if you will have me back I will never leave your side ever again. Please, Inara,” he whispered. “Tell me I am still all that I once was to you.”

She ran a tiny, soft hand through his hair, and looked straight into his eyes, which were red from crying, in that bold, unashamed way of hers, and, tears began to well in her own eyes that were more beautiful than any jewel. “Of course you are, my love. Oh, Mal, I love you! I have been so angry and foolish--I really should have seen sense and not have let you suffer so--”

“I was the fool, and I have suffered rightly.”

“MAl, don’t be so hard on yourself. Where the fault lies is irrelevant, because we’re together now. We’ve fixed it,” she smiled tearfully, embracing him. “I’m still waiting for an explanation about the drink...”

“You know, it was the advice of a bartender that convinced me to come to you, so I think that, for the moment, I should be pardoned,” he laughed. “And sober is no way to be when one’s life is in ruins, which was most certainly the case for me, I assure you.”

“Just don’t ever leave me again,” she said, taking his large, calloused hand in hers. “You’ll always love me, won’t you?” 

“Always, darlin’,” he replied, kissing the top of her head as he held her. “I never stopped.” 

And he meant it. Never again would he leave her. He would always love her, to the bitter end, for love does not change for those who know it truly. 


End file.
